Make my wish come true
by Norwegianne
Summary: Two cousins discuss a Christmas wish list.


Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
A/N: another one-shot Christmas fic from me.  
  
Make my wish come true.  
  
"Come on," Josh Lyman whined. "You have to tell me what you want for Christmas. I've already got a list from Donna."  
  
He waved a leaflet at her and she noticed that it was quite a lot of pages. They had entered Noah Lyman's office to get away from their mothers.  
  
"Josh?" Willow Rosenberg looked at her cousin. "We don't celebrate Christmas."  
  
"You try telling that to Donna. She'll only tell you that if I don't get her one gift, in accordance with her protestant traditions, then I'll have to get her eight, in accordance with my Jewish upbringing."  
  
"Or you could just bring her over, all of the eight days, to witness the lightening of the Menorah," added Willow. "I'm sure that Donna would find that just as interesting as whatever gift you manage to scramble up for her."  
  
"But the lightening of the Menorah is family time. Mom's going to be there, so is Aunt Sheila and Uncle Ira."  
  
"And you spend more time with Donna every year than you do with all of us."  
  
"But that's work," he protested. "Why haven't you invited any of your friends?"  
  
"Josh? They don't want me around this Christmas, remember?"  
  
"You still haven't told me why they don't. I can't see what would be so horrible that your friends would just abandon you around Christmas."  
  
Willow's eyes watered.  
  
"That's because I haven't completely understood it myself. I know what I did, Josh, but the complete ramifications haven't quite set in yet."  
  
"I thought that was why you were at that resort in England?"  
  
"It became clearer, but it's still not quite clear in my mind why I did it. I told you about Tara, right?"  
  
"Yeah, you gushed into my phone about her so much I thought I needed to change the phone for a while. Then was the e-mail that she had dumped you."  
  
"Yeah." Willow let out a breath of air. Tara's death still hurt, but during the making of the first ten batches of cookie dough she had realized that Tara's death was merely the catalyst that had pushed her over the final hedge. She had no one to blame but herself. "So what are you getting her for Christmas?"  
  
Josh looked bewildered, something he was very good at. "Who?"  
  
"Donna."  
  
"I thought we were talking about what you wanted?"  
  
"Somehow Donna managed to get tangled up in the conversation," Willow grabbed the leaflet. "So what are you going to get her?"  
  
"I don't know. I'm lousy at picking presents."  
  
"No, you're not. Who got me the scanner the year I was fifteen, when Mom and Dad got me a doll?"  
  
"That's different, it's you. I'm good at picking presents for you. I only think about what the most computer-obsessed little hacker girl could want."  
  
"About the hacking."  
  
"You haven't hacked into the White House?"  
  
"Not during this administration." Willow tried to look innocent. "I could, but I haven't hacked into anything for a long while."  
  
"About that, the president wants you to know that he really appreciated the wake-up call he got from you about one of the military institutions."  
  
Willow cringed a bit at the memories of what had gone down in the Initiative.  
  
"Yeah, yeah. So what are you buying Donna? Skis?"  
  
"Is that on her list this year as well?"  
  
"Yup, or a trip to Hawaii?"  
  
"Nah, I could pitch in for a trip to Sunnydale with you."  
  
"Josh, Donna does NOT want to see Sunnydale. Believe me."  
  
"I could get her a stapler?"  
  
"And risk getting stapled to the door when you get annoying?" Willow turned the page as Josh reconsidered.  
  
"Maybe not. Donna would totally do it, too. And everybody would come and mock me."  
  
"I could sell popcorn."  
  
"You've got a freakish mind, cousin."  
  
"So does Donna."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Why she would ever want the last item on her list, is beyond me."  
  
"What does it say?"  
  
"You haven't read it?"  
  
"Nah, I figured I'd skim through it and find a theme. Then I can get her something when the president wants me to accompany him on a shopping tour. What does it say, Willow?"  
  
She just handed him the list in silence.  
  
He read it. Once. Then he reread it and blushed.  
  
"She can't be serious."  
  
"No, I'm pretty sure she's Donna."  
  
"She's crazy."  
  
"I would have to agree with you, Josh." Willow made a face. "Why anyone would put this down on their Christmas list when there are so many other things to put on it I don't understand."  
  
"In Donna's defense, there are a lot of other things on her list."  
  
"Yeah, you could get her the DVD player."  
  
"Does putting something at the bottom of the last page mean you want it more, or less than the rest?"  
  
"Probably something she added on impulse, crazy woman."  
  
"Does that mean she wants it, cousin with psych 101?"  
  
"Well, I don't know. She's gross."  
  
"She's Donna. Do you think writing a list for her, with the word coffee on would be too much?"  
  
"Coffee is always too much for me. But it's really good."  
  
"Yeah, Donna won't bring me coffee."  
  
"She should be taken out back and shot."  
  
"Mhm. Do you think she's serious?"  
  
"No, I think she's Donna."  
  
"Aw, come on Willow. Brining in a children's book in an adult conversation should be above you."  
  
"It's a children's book?"  
  
"Back to Donna and her crazy list."  
  
"Do you want to give her the last item on her list, Josh? And please decide soon, because Mom and aunt Ruth are going to teach me how to make latkes."  
  
"I - I - I don't know."  
  
"Decide, I've found that nothing get's the mind working as good as creating something." She pulled his hand, and he put the list down at his desk. "Come help me survive Mom and Aunt Ruth."  
  
"Okay, but I'm not touching the food until it's finished."  
  
"As if we want to die of food poisoning."  
  
Their laughter trailed out of the room behind them, and Donna's Christmas list was left behind on Noah Lyman's desk. But not forgotten.  
  
It was quite simple, and typed neatly. The last page was the one that lay open for everyone to read.  
  
All I want for Christmas. is you. 


End file.
